(ON HOLD)Butterfly
by Fuk-Life-Sucks-Like-Sluts000
Summary: 2 people. 1 secret. Can two broken people complete each other. Warning: may trigger. T for dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

What do you think of when you hear the name Zachary Goode?

Some think of him as the resident bad ass at school who doesn't give a damn about anybody.

Others think he is an arrogant jerk with a cold heart.

Many think that he is an emotionless robot that only knows how to hate.

Truth be told, he's all of them. But no one cared enough to ask why.

This was mostly because he would simply refuse to answer and instead glare at you with such cold eyes it was enough to make you visibly shiver. But that was his nature to do so. He was like the street dog thrown into the kennel who never got adopted, because he wasn't as cute or friendly as the other dogs. He was the mutt people avoided incase he would lash out and tear them limb from limb.

Any many wouldn't put it past him with his history when it came to people.

But it was his way of surviving.

No one noticed the scars on his body. The white ones on his back or the red ones on his arms. And why would they. He didn't want peoples fake sympathy and their pity. He would rather have everyone hate him than have them pretend to care when in fact they don't. So he pushes them away. Because that is all he knows how to do.

It was his wall of safety in which he could hide behind until he was in the bathroom with a blade.

But that was how he survived.

You here all these stories in which the person cuts out of sadness. But Zach cut for all his emotions.

All his emotions he couldn't have.

He never learned to be nice. To love. He was taught how to fight and to never let his guard down, other wise you would be ridiculed as a weakling.

And that was sure as hell not gonna happen.

His father and mother made sure of it.

Of course it wasn't his biological father. He never new him. But that it what made his stepfather hate him even more. Any time he showed weakness growing up, he would be met by the end of an belt in his stepdads hands. He quickly learned to toughen up and shut up.

He first started cutting when his stepdad, Greg, had called him every name under the sun as he ran and hid in the bathroom. With him being only 14, he couldn't defend hisself or his mother. So he hid in the bathroom while he listened to Greg beat his mother to a pulp. He hid.

Like a coward.

It was in this moment that the broken razor blade became his best friend and his only Allie in life. People couldn't be trusted and so you were better off on your own. At least that's what he told himself.

Growing up with his secrets, ment that everything he did would have to have reason. There was no point in arranging to go out with 'friends' when in the end you will just end up with a knife in your back and time wasted. People would pretend like they care, but they never ment it. It was just the thing people say to earn your trust and than just smash it.

He had all the friends he needs. And it they were small, silver, and sharp...

But no matter what he told himself, he was lonely.

He wasn't a cutter. He was an artist of sorts. He just used a different type of Paper to draw on; his skin. Some people think it's wrong to want to cut up your skin, that it just leaves you with horrible scars. But to him, each scar showed a story that was filled with emotion and it didn't destroy beauty. It helped you find it. Of course he would never tell anyone this, cause no one needed to know. He didn't have

Until he met her.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

'_She got quieter,_

_Her nights got longer,_

_Her blades got bigger,_

_Her sleeves got longer,_

_Her meals got smaller,_

_She became skinnier,_

_Her music got louder,_

_And no one_

_Noticed.'_

Cammie Morgan. Cutter. That's all any one ever new about her. No one could see pass the scars that were buried in her skin, layer after layer. No one new there story, simply because no one ever cared after they saw.

People are afraid to ask, there afraid of something they don't understand.

There were very few people who tried to understand and even then they still couldn't.

You don't understand cutting, unless you have. No one knows the pain of losing your dad, unless you have. And that is why Cammie never let nobody in, not because she didn't want to; because she didn't need to. In her mind, unless someone had been through her pain, then they couldn't understand.

When Cammie had started cutting, she quickly learned how to hide it. Evidently, she also knew how to spot it.

She could see the reason why those people you know always wore long sleeves in summer.

How the girls would were bracelets up there arm all the time.

Why those dudes never took of their jacket.

Behind every forced laugh, smile and sentence, she could hear the pain. How their smile never quite reached their eyes, or the hurt hiding behind them in depths.

She knew because she did the exact same thing everyday. She knew she was depressed, but she didn't want to admit it.

Every day, she was fighting a battle with herself. She would argue with the mirror about how she looks. About how those scars on her body destroyed anything worthwhile.

No one had ever told her different. After her fathers death, no one was there to help cushion her fall. She only ever wanted for someone to tell her they love her and she was worth something. But after years of wishing, no one ever showed up.

'_Depression is were someone has so much love but no one to give it too.' _

Until him.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Later in life, they both had to thank their English teacher, Mr Solomen, who had paired them together for there projects. Get to know your partner and write a poem about them. Of course, no one wanted to be with them though.

No one liked being with the strange kid.

And that's what they both were considered. Strange. But too each other, when their sleeves would accidentally fall down for a second showing red puffy lines in class, they were the same.

They were both hurting. And trying to hide it behind a mask.

'_Yes I'm smiling, but inside I'm dying.' _

And maybe they could help heal the pain together.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Can you show me ?"

"... I'll show you mine if you show me yours..." I say looking down at him, turning my head away from the stars. I knew what he was talking about. It was what I wanted to ask him but never had the guts too. We had been building up this moment for weeks. The one time we were going to let our guards down and trust.

We were going to show each other our scars.

Over the last couple of weeks, I learned some stuff about Zachary Goode. He wasn't made of stone. He wasn't as tough as every thought. He had the same voice inside his head that tells him one more, the same as me. The same one saying he wasn't good enough.

He was hurt. Just. Like. Me.

Maybe that's why when we both rolled down our sleeves as we sat in front of the water, I didn't feel ashamed to have marks across my once clear skin, as I wasn't the only one anymore who had been in pain.

When he looked down embarrassed about his deeper cuts, I simply kissed his scars. And I listened as he told me about the story of each one.

I let a single year roll down my cheek as I told him about the words I had carved onto my arm. When he saw the butterfly I had carved into my arm, I told him how I believed butterfly's were loved ones recreated; about how it represented my dad. When he saw the words ' not Goode enough' scared across my left arm, he said I was like a butterfly...

"Why am I ?"

"Because butterfly's are beautiful but they don't know it, because they can't see their wings. Just like you don't know how how much your worth. To me..."

I let him hold me while I cried, and for once in a very long time, I had someone to dry my tears.

And he wasn't lonely.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

_I knew a guy that liked to draw,_

_He drew pictures that nobody saw._

_He was most artistic late at night,_

_In the bathroom, out of sight._

_He kept a secret that nobody knew,_

_He didn't tell a soul and his gallery grew._

_His drawing were different, no paper or pen._

_But needed a bandage ever now and again._

_We stood by the river under the stars,_

_He rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars._

_He felt embarrassed and looked down at his shoes,_

_Then I rolled up my sleeves and whispered _

_" I draw too"..._

**A/n: Hey guys I know I should be updating my other story "love is a battle field" but I'm working on the next chapter so it's gonna be longer than other chapters, so I wrote this a while back and so to make sure you guys have something to read I decided to post it. This is a one-shot but I may use it in future stories, I'm not a sure yet.**

**I know this is really depressive compared to my other work, but I just had think it was important to write it as Depression has changed my life as my closes family members have it, and so have I. Everything I wrote in this comes from my heart and what I have felt, so play nice in those reviews. **

**I mentioned in this about how butterfly's represent dead love ones, and I truly believe this. I read it in a book a few years ago and it just kind of stuck. **

**Also there are some of my favourite quotes in here that I really just wanted to share. They are really powerful. **

**I haven't read many story's were it really says anything about guys cutting, but I know several guys who do, so I think it's important that we remember, guys hurt too. **

**'**_**If two halves of a broken heart make one whole,**_

_**Then maybe two Broken people can make each other whole again.' **_

_**-unknown **_


	2. An:

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you to every one who reviewed this story! I have some big news! It's going not be continued! Yay *mental happy dance* **

**I know I have to update 'Love is a battlefield' it's just that, for certain stories I have to be in certain moods. For love is a battlefield I have to be in a silly and giddy mood, so it stays funny and light hearted. I tried writing a chapter for it when I was really sad and I almost ended up killing cammie! So yeah, not a good idea to mess up my stories with my emotions. For this one I have to be in a dark and serious mood so I can make it serious with the topics in it. Anyway, I've started the next chapters for each story and they should be done soon :)**

**Shoutouts: **

Leslie (Guest): **I'm glad you found it heart touching. That is what I was aiming for:) XX**

GallagherGirls13BYE: **I'm glad you were able to follow and favourite me! It means a lot when people say I'm an amazing writer. It gives me confidence boost to keep writing:) I'm glad you found it beautiful. I'm so happy I taught you about butterfly's cause they are my favourite insect for all the amazing quotes about them. I don't think your afraid of loved ones who are gone, as I had been but now I just realise I'm afraid of what happens after there gone. Maybe that's your fear? I don't know, I'm not a specialist but that's just my thought. I never thought of it like that, how they are searching for their love ones. That really moved me... I'm happy you like my perspective on it. XX**

zammiandjackunzel4evaderp: **I'm sooo happy you loved it! Also you have a really long username lol. Don't take this the wrong way, but I see your a jackunzle fan, don't hate me but I ship jelsa... Plz don't hate me! I'm glad you found it deep and it got to your heart. As I said that is what I was aiming for and it looks like I hit bullseye. I didn't write the poems, they are quotes and poems u have stuck on my walls and stuff. I'm hoping once this story is finished it would have taught people a few things :) XX**

BooksLover2000: **your wish is my command ;) XX**

**Thank you too everyone who followed and/or favourited me and my story. **

**I know this is gonna be a really touché story so if you find it to much I'm sorry, but it needs to be as these are feelings from my heart. If anyone ever needs someone to talk to, whether it's when your down or not, I'm always here and I will respond. I don't mind as I have felt like that.**

**There will be mentions of mental health issues in the story, some off which I have and some I don't but I will make all the ones mentioned real and realistic to what someone with them would feel. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong though as I want this to be real. **

**Stay strong,**

**-Freddie xoxoxo**


	3. Chapter 3: I hate this town

Zach pov:

"_It feels like I live my life in purgatory._

_Feeling so many things at once and having so little understanding._

_Feeling so much pain and feeling empty."_

Empty. That's all I ever felt. Anger, hate, jealousy and emptiness is all I ever felt. But mostly, I just felt empty. No love. No happiness. No reason to live, with this hole in my soul that could seems will never be filled. Empty.

If I could just feel something new, maybe I'd stop. But what's the point. All I ever feel are these dark feelings that cloud my mind, blocking out all light. But I could cut into that cloud. Slice it open, and watch it bleed. Slim rays of light, of feelings, would shine through.

I watch as this blood falls down to the floor. One cut, two cut, three cut, four.

But I couldn't stop. The sound of their yelling was still outside the door. It wouldn't stop. So neither can I.

"_If I only could feel something new, _

_Those days are long over dew._

_The razor has become my closets companion,_

_Bent from all the work I put it through,_

_Slicing up my skin as the blood trails through." _

_**(A/N: My own poetry.)**_

I put the blade down, and see it's bent from wear I had held on to it so tight. I look down at my arm and see the new pieces of artwork on my arm. I trace the white scars around it and the new red ones. I wince as I wash the remaining blood of my arms and hands. The water in the sink turns pink, mixing with the blood. I watch as it drains away, and a numbing feeling takes over my body. The relief I felt washed down the drain with the blood.

No one knows my secret. No one ever will. They all just think I'm some psychopath who would kill you (too say I'm antisocial would be appropriate) when in reality, I want to do that to my self. Some man I'm meant to be.

"_I just stared at that rope and wish my life would expire."_

I look up into the mirror and stair at myself.

My black hair falls into my green eyes. There once full of life colour, now reduced to a lifeless green, the colour of a forest that has long since died. The shine wiped out of eyes, now all that remains in a glaze over them. The bags under them make me look older than I am.18 and life's already beat me down.

My black hair, once soft is now dry and shaggy. My addiction had taken it's toal on me; inside and out. The only things that shined anymore was the piecing in my eyebrow but even that couldn't hide the lifeless and drained look.

Shuffling out of the bathroom, careful to not let my 'parents' know I was walking about, I went to my bedroom and turned on my radio full blast to drown out there yelling. I could still here them though, their yells burning into my head.

"_I just want to have my music so loud that I can't hear my life crashing and burning around me." _

As I listened to the screaming music, I stated punching the punchbag I had dragged back here when I was 15. It was well used, the stuffing and stitches starting to come undone with every session with my anger. It helped me get rid of my scrawny body that the others used to tease me about. Now people think twice before even looking my way, let alone in my eyes. As my 'mother' always used to tell me growing up: where there's fear, there's power.

She didn't think to tell me about the beatings I'd get if I showed fear to my stepdad, Greg. If I so much as whimpered, I would be met with the end of a belt. The scars on my back a constant reminder of my weakness. I punched the bag harder as my memories came back.

"_I'd rather feel pain then nothing at all." _

Hours later, long after my knuckles had gone bloody and raw,as I crawled into bed, I ignored the stinging feeling on my arms. The burning sensation I got when ever I moved. It didn't matter how much it hurt now, it was going to be twice as bad in the morning so there was no use about crying about it. Huh, crying. I haven't cried in over three years. Besides, the feeling over the years became one of my closest companions. It took up the space of where I was meant to feel other emotions. Which ones I can't tell you, as I've never felt them. They were always just something other people had, like holidays and gifts. Such things were not considered a priority in my life.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Cammies pov:

I stared down at the people across the street at my neighbours house. There were people drinking, making out, throwing up and passed out in the front yard, with the music in the house in the background.

It was hard seeing what people find so attractive about house party's, having to dress up showing skin, being judged about what you wore and how it looked. I never understood why people would want to be judged even more than they have too.

Maybe if I went to one I would understand the culture of getting trashed and hanging out with friends. But that would consist of actually having friends. Something I haven't had in a long time.

"_I was already alone, now I'm trying to fined a friend, got no friends, so hear I am now wishing it would end." _

I listened to the house I was in. Nothing. There was no sound anymore, just silence. Mom was gone again, so I was left alone. Again. And I hated it.

"_I don't wanna be the girl that has to hear the silence._

_The quiet scares me because it speaks the truth." _

Ever since dad had died I had been alone. My 'friends' bailed, my mom shut off, and nobody wanted to deal with a grieving 11 year old. After I realised this, I stopped talking. No one noticed. No one noticed when I started missing meals. Or when I only ever wore long sleeves. No one noticed my red eyes, the dead look you saw if you looked into them, and they never saw those long scars on my arms and legs. No one noticed because no one looked. And that's what kills the most.

"_She got quieter,_

_Her nights got longer,_

_Her blades got bigger,_

_Her sleeves got longer,_

_Her meals got smaller,_

_She became skinnier,_

_Her music got louder,_

_And no one_

_Noticed.'_

But they did notice the clothes I wore. How it was all black and had bands names they had never heard before on them. How they were different. After a year of leaving me alone to grieve, they decided that was long enough to keep quiet about my choices. And that's when the taunting started.

They would make up all these silly Scenarios in there head as too why I dressed the way I did. About how I came from a messed up family. They called me names, tripped me, pushed, shoved, hit, and pulled my hair. And I let them. Maybe it was because I was an easy target or because I had somehow offended them when I hadn't said a word too anyone of them in two years, but what ever the reason, they just kept on coming back. I was the rag doll of the school, the person you could make fun off and nothing would happen. But it killed me.

"_They would call me up, they would always bring back up._

_Call me a slut and say my family was jacked up. _

_Death threats every time I logged in,_

_Always on some other shit,_

_Damn here we go again." _

Then they went technical. Every chance the would get, they would send messages to kill myself, to just give up. News had got around one day that I cut after Someone saw the scars in P.E in the changing rooms. That just made their fire burn even more. Walking down the corridor they would move their hands across their wrist, send messages to cut deeper. Told me I was nothing. So I took their advise when I was 14.

_" I mean fuck it, if I am really nothing, then no body would stop me from taking that rope and jumping." _

It didn't work though.

If it did I wouldn't be here, in a new house alone. After trying to hang myself, my mother moved us far away so no one new us. She claimed she would try harder. But three days after moving and she's gone again. I can't blame her though. I'm not the only one who lost someone, who had scars. I know she doesn't like what she's become, just like I don't, but it was inevitable.

Going back to the window, I close the shades and go back to my bed. I'll never be one of those girls who have girly nights with friends or go shopping.

I could have been, but no one could see past the scars. They couldn't care less that I've been clean for a full year now. But that's life.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Cam prov:

School. The habitat of my personal hell.

Were the government decided that we were not judged enough, so they put hateful, still developing teenagers in one building for six hours. A high school is were super villains should be put as punishment in my opinion.

This place that was thought to teach the youth to socialise and care for each other, is now just a battle ground for teenagers trying to make it through their 4 years here alive.

There isn't much here in Roseville, I mean the most famous thing about this town is a giant great oak stump. No one wants to be stuck in this town, but it's inevitable. Peoples parents were born here, they were born here, and there kids will be stuck here in this shithole, just like them. It's Roseville circle of life. I'm not staying here though. I'm gonna get through my last two years here and get out of here with out a second to lose.

"_I hate this town, it's so washed up, and all my friends don't give a fuck, they tell me that's it's just bad look, when will I find where I belong." _

The people aren't much better. Small town kids, trying to escape, parents stuck in medium-wage jobs, old folk talking about the good ol' days when everything was simpler. I always loved learning about the past, how much we changed.

How a cultured Society which was based on freedom, could be reduced to every person being labeled.

How equality is now based on the products you wear.

Life really does suck.

If one thing came out if me losing all friends and now hating social media, it's that I had a lot of time to study. That's why this year, I got most of the senior classes but unfortunately that doesn't mean I can graduate with them and get out of this pit of serpents a year early.

Slamming my locker shut as I make my way to home room as the shrilling bell rings only one thought comes to mind...

_Life is a bitch._

**A/N: hello my survivors! I'm sry it took my so long to update, but this is really just a filler chapter to get a better look into Zach and Cammie's lives. If anyone has any questions or just simply wants to have a chat feel free to comment and/or pm me. I'm going to try to respond to all comments from now on, as I feel you guys deserve that as I respect you for taking the time to comment and help:) **

**Song: I really think you guys should listen to 'suicide' by clariyah. Such an inspirational song and I've used some if the lyrics in this chapter.**

**Songs for the chapter:**

**I think the song should be "All signs point to lauderdale" by A Day To Rember. They are one of my favourite bands and they're song is so inspirational, and I think the start of the song fits it well when cammies talking about the town. The rest of the song will make more sense in the next chapter;)**

**Stay strong,**

**~ Fredo **

_**'' to live in a world where someone believes that they must die instead of being who they are, is truly terrifying."**_

_**\- Me **_


End file.
